


I Wasn't Looking For Love (But You Found Me)

by freakofnature



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: :c, Amazing, M/M, The first thing of 2017 i have published, for: princess/crackpairingprincess, hq rare pair exchange, life kicked my butt and then i forgot about this and so its, sorry this is so rough, unfinished for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 09:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10273958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakofnature/pseuds/freakofnature
Summary: It was supposed to be a short-term ploy to get the media off his back. But Bokuto Koutarou is a force to be reckoned with, and before Kenma can stop it, his fake boyfriend becomes more than he wanted.Fake Dating AU ft Model AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> //jumps into the deep end of hell
> 
> HELLO. so first im sorry this isnt fully finished. i had a really time with this even tho i had a really clear idea? mostly bc bokuto isnt usually a main for me so its hard for me to write him and. i kinda have been not in the anime world. (kpop took over my life just look at my bookmarks yall its so sad) 
> 
> anyways i still hope you enjoy this, and i will finish this someday. there is more written but its a lil rough and im battling being sick, spring break parties, and an upcoming 8 days in another state in like a week.

Kenma looks down at the phone cradled between his fingers; stares at the black bold type staring back at him from his otherwise white screen.

He glances over at Tetsurou--his self-proclaimed best friend--the one person who has stood beside him since before  _ Kozume Kenma _ and  _ Kuroo Tetsurou _ became household names. Tetsurou caught his eye and grinned, teeth white against bare lips.

“Bro,” Tetsurou says, taking a step forward. Kenma fumbles the phone into one hand and raises the other to halt his friend’s movement.

“Stay,” The words are calm, a simple request that Tetsurou heeds without complaint. “And don’t call me  _ bro _ .”

Kenma looks back down at the phone. Back to Tetsurou--grin getting wider by the second. Back to the phone. He watches as the screen times out, white background and bolded words blinking out of existence. Kenma stares at the glass screen of his phone, his own fingerprint-blurred reflection staring back.

“What,” Kenma starts to say, his gaze flicking back up to stare at Tetsurou, “the fuck is this?”

It takes less than a second for Tetsurou to lose it, his huffing laughter echoing in Kenma’s bedroom. “Amazing,” Tetsurou heaves between breaths. “It’s amazing.”

Kenma drops the phone in his grasp, watching with lips curled in disgust as Tetsurou clutches at his stomach, struggling to breathe. “I will throw this phone at you,” Kenma threatens with little heat.

When Tetsurou shows no signs of shutting up, Kenma flops back down onto his bed, eyes trained on the ceiling as he contemplates the  _ why _ of the article he had just skimmed. 

 

**Kozume Kenma Caught on a Date with International Photographer Kuroo Tetsurou??!**

 

“I hate this,” Kenma says to the room at large. Tetsurou’s peals of laughter are finally calming down. “We were getting coffee?”

There is a beat of silence before Tetsurou is at Kenma’s side, shoving him over on the bed so he could side down.

Kenma makes a sound of protest, bare feet kicking at Tetsurou’s thigh lightly. “Rude,” he says with a huff.

“Stop worrying about it,” Tetsurou says, words calm as fingers card through Kenma’s hair. “It’s said and done. We both know the paparazzi were going to jump on us the moment we both stepped outside together.”

“But, we were getting  _ coffee _ ,” Kenma stresses. He heaves a sigh, giving up on the idea that he was going to be able to relax in bed again anytime soon. He sits up, shoving pillows out of the way so he can press his back against the headboard. “It’s not we stayed there? What is so romantic about getting coffee?”

Tetsurou only gives a shrug, picking up Kenma’s phone from the bed and tapping at the dark screen. “I just returned after touring Europe for shoots,” he explains. “I’m not shocked they took this chance. You know, we  _ are _ famous. Japan’s first male androgynous model and--”

“I’m not,” Kenma interrupts, reaching over to take his phone out of Tetsurou’s hands. “I’m not the first. I just happened to be known before I got signed. Everyone made a fuss over me for no reason.”

“For good reason,” Tetsurou corrects, scooting over on the bed to press against Kenma’s side. “You’re beautiful and awkwardly charismatic. Of course, you were well known. I did not take some of your photos for you to say that you aren’t gorgeous.”

Silence settles between the two of them for a second, and Kenma takes the time to unlock his phone and taps on the colorful Instagram icon to pull up the app. Immediately he is bombarded with bright colors on his Instagram feed. “It’s too early,” he grumbles, but tap the camera button anyways.

“It’s almost noon,” Tetsurou jokes as he scoots closer to Kenma, grinning wide as Kenma takes a selfie of them. “It’s not early by any means.”

Kenma ignores him in lieu of finding the right filter to go with the image and tapping out a caption. “It’s early by my means,” he says as the image uploads.

“Sure, whatever,” Tetsurou gets off the bed and stretches, a yawn causing his jaw to crack in the quiet of the room. “Any plans today?”

“Avoid any photographer within a 10-mile radius,” Kenma deadpans, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Including me?” Tetsurou fakes offense, a hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Especially you,” Kenma finally gets out of bed, mourning the loss of the soft sheets and warmth. “Shouyou wants to see you before you go jetting off to another country,” he says, pushing past Tetsurou to step into the chill of his hallway.

He hates winter.

“Lunch?” Tetsurou trails behind Kenma until they reach the kitchen. “Or are we thinking dinner? It would be nice to catch up with him and Tobio. It’s been a while hasn't it?”

A noncommittal hum presses against Kenma’s lips as he makes enough coffee for the two of them. Tetsurou had once made fun of him for not just buying one of those pod coffee makers, but Kenma hated the thought of not using his coffee as a fertilizer for his various plants just didn't sit right with Kenma.

“If you want Tobio to be there,” Kenma says as he passes Tetsurou a cup of black coffee. “It’s probably going to be dinner time. I think he has a shoot until the evening. With a new model, of all things.”

* * *

 

It’s barely been a week since Tetsurou had hugged him tight in the hallway of their shared apartment, whispered words of comfort and promises pressed into Kenma’s temple. Promises that Tetsurou wouldn’t disappear for six months with only a few text messages and a trail of blurry images on the entertainment news sites proving that he was still alive.

It had barely been a week since Kenma watched from the frosted window in his living room as Tetsurou hailed a taxi in the crowded snow covered streets of Tokyo. Distantly, Kenma felt jealous of his childhood friend. Remembers the days when he could have gone and hugged him at the airport or held hands without fear of camera pressing into his face with questions on their relationship.

As if either of them had ever thought of dating each other. Kenma had never had more than a passing crush on anyone since he was old enough to know what they were, and Tetsurou was  _ Tetsurou _ .

It had barely been a week since Tetsurou’s disappearance from Kenma’s day-to-day life, and the paparazzi was already questioning where his so-called lover had jetted off to. As if Kenma would know.  

And while it had only been a week and the paparazzi were on his ass with questions on a relationship Kenma kept telling them  _ wasn’t real _ , Kenma was a human being with needs. And despite the fact that Kenma wasn't all that fond of eating three full meals a day--or even eating more days at all--but when one of his closest friends is hailed as the Everyday Model, and is famous not only for his frank attitude on what he eats but also for his beauty, well. Kenma can’t afford to skip meals.

So even though Tetsurou hadn’t even been gone a full week, and the paparazzi were infuriating at best, Kenma ventured out of his apartment for the first time since the New Year had begun with a grocery list in hand and his phone in his back pocket.

* * *

 

Minimal troubles befall him during his trek to the grocery store and most of the way home. Of course, a few people had recognized him, and a few asked for autographs or selfies, but no one truly invaded his personal space.

Kenma had been known before he was officially signed, and while being a contracted model did mean more people knew him, those who knew him before Kenma was plastered across Japan Vogue knew that he valued his personal space.

The trouble arises as Kenma approaches the lobby doors to his apartment building. He can see a lone young man, ash blonde hair messy as he runs his fingers through the strands. The man screams journalist, from his scuffed boots to the thin wire glasses that perch on his nose.

And to think Kenma almost had an incident free journey outside.

“Afternoon,” Kenma greets slowly, eyes narrowing as the reporter smiles at him. “Is there a reason you’re blocking the entrance to my apartment building?”

His question seems to startle the young man, whose smile falters for a moment before he sticks out his hand. “Yes! Hi, I just wanted to ask a few questions. I’m not a contracted journalist…”

Kenma stares at the outstretched hand and then glances down at his hands filled with various food. “Yes, okay. What do you need from me?”

“Just a few questions, honestly. It’s for my college class,” the man’s smile turns sheepish as his outstretched hand goes running through his hair again. “Do you mind?”

“Maybe,” Kenma adjusts his posture, half ready to barrel through the man to get to his lobby and half willing to answer a college student’s likely harmless questions. “Continue.”

“Ah!” the college student fumbles around before he takes a deep breath. “Um, right. So, is there a reason you haven't been doing any schedules recently?”

Oh. Kenma can easily do this. “I usually try to take time off for the holidays,” he answers calmly. “So I can visit family.”

“So you don’t know the recent scandal about fellow model Hinata Shouyou hooking up with one of the Grind photographers?”

Kenma presses his lips together, eyes sliding to the side as he tries to think of an answer to the question. Of course, he was aware of the scandal, thought it was less of a scandal and more of Shouyou forgetting to hide the hickeys that traveled from his neck to the inside of his thighs. Tracing it back to Tobio had only been a matter of time.

“I’m not removed from social media,” Kenma finally says, eyes narrowed. “I saw the headlines, but it was not any of my business in knowing.”

“Do you think that the scandal was brought to light in regards to the fact that Hinata Shouyou is biologia--”

“Careful. Shouyou is one of my closest friends,” Kenma warns, grip tightening over his bags. “Next question.”

“Right, um. Sorry about that, I have no issues with--”

Kenma looks up in hopes that magical powers will finally be bestowed upon him and he can teleport to his apartment. “Next. Question.” he grinds out, a tense smile on his lips.

“Do you miss him?” the student pushes his hair out of his face and kindly smiles at Kenma. “I know Kuroo Tetsurou--your so-called childhood friend--left earlier this week. Do you miss him.”

“Not really.”  _ Of course _ .

“Even though every news outlet says that the two of you are dating?”

“We aren’t. I am not dating Kuroo Tetsurou, nor have I ever dated him. Nor will I ever date him.” Kenma says clearly, begging for the questionnaire to be over. He had made a mistake letting this reporter talk to him. Made a mistake in greeting him like a normal human being.

Reporters were ruthless, no matter the age. Kenma should have remembered that.

“Yes, well. There is ample evidence that the two of you have  _ something _ \--”

“I have a boyfriend,” Kenma blurts out, shocking himself.

And the reporter stares at him. Kenma stares back, fear slowly licking up his spine.

_ Oh shi-- _

“Care to expl--”

Kenma finds that his feet _do_ work, and shoves past the student. “No, have a nice day.”

And then he is through the lobby and safely in the elevators, chest heaving and eyes wide.

He fucked up.

* * *

 

_ To: Tetsu _

_ I made a mistake  
_ _ -seen: 17:43- _

__

_ From: Tetsu _ __   
_ wat happend? u ok _ _   
_ __ -seen: 17:46-

__

_ To: Tetsu _ __   
_...i said i had a boyfriend. _ _   
_ __ -seen: 17:55-

 

_ From: Tetsu _ __   
_ WHAT??? WTF KENMA WHAT?? _ _   
_ __ -seen: 18:32-

 

_ From: Tetsu _ __   
_ Who did you TELL??? KENMA??? ANSWER ME! _ _   
_ __ -seen: 18:32-

 

_ To: Tetsu _ __   
_...some college student? I just wanted to go inside...chikara is gonna kill me  
_ __ -seen: 18:33-

 

_ From: Tetsu _

_ lmao i mean u could just get a fake bf or smth. tho idk if chika will allow tht. Good luck. gotta go :*  
_ _ -seen: 18:39- _

* * *

 

After being chewed out by his ever so pragmatic manager Ennoshita Chikara, Kenma retreats to the safe haven of his fellow model's couch cushions, whines spilling from his lips as the owner of said apartment eats lunch across the room.

“You’ll feel better if you eat,” Keiji tells Kenma around a bite of his burger. His  _ homemade _ burger--a fact Keiji was adamant to point out when Kenma mentioned the grease that dripped from the meat. “It’s a scientific fact.” 

“Liar,” Kenma mumbles from the couch, a pillow pressed against the lower half of his face. “That grease ridden burger will not make me happier. It will make me sick.”

“Grass-fed beef can help boost your dopamine levels, which is the chemical produced by your body that deals with the pleasure you feel when--well,” Keiji takes another bite and chews thoughtfully. “Dark chocolate helps too.”

“No.” Kenma remains on the couch, unwilling to eat the burger or chocolate. He has a shoot next month, the last thing he needs to do is eat too much. Even if he hasn’t really eaten for the past three days. “I’m not hungry.”

Keiji fixes Kenma with a flat look, before shifting his gaze to the pantry where Kenma assumed Keiji kept his chocolate. Heaving a sigh, Kenma pries himself off the couch and makes his way to grab the chocolate from its not so hidden location.

“Sit next to me,” his friend snags a grease-slicked finger in the collar of Kenma’s shirt as he tries to slink back to the couch, jerking Kenma mid-step.

Without a word of protest, Kenma sits on the barstool next to Keiji, casting a single look of disgust at the oily  _ homemade _ burger before he stares at the bar of chocolate in his hands.

Wonders how long it’s going to take for it to make it’s reappearance to the world once he eats it.

“Kenma?” shiny fingers tap on the foil wrapper, pulling Kenma from his thoughts, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you hungry? When did you last eat a full meal?”

There’s a pause. Too long, Kenma screams to himself. He took  _ too long _ . “A...few days ago,” he confesses, shoulders hunching inwards. “the morning before I lied about having a boyfriend.”

“To that college journalist boy?” Keiji places a hand on Kenma’s shoulder, a soft squeeze felt through the fabric of his shirt. “It’s okay. Do you want me to make you soup?”

Kenma nods, pushing the chocolate away from him. “Sure, that would be nice.” When Keiji gets up, the remains of his burger being a few crumbs and drops of oil, Kenma reaches out to snag his sleeve. “I...I don’t know what to do. Chikara told me to lay low, but I don’t…”

“Well,” the pensive reply comes slowly, a lilt to Keiji’s words that perk Kenma’s interest. “I might have an idea to help you?”

Kenma looks at him, amber eyes wide, bottom lip hidden between his teeth.

“How do you feel about a fake boyfriend?”

* * *

 

Kenma’s in the middle of a shoot, clad in too much makeup and shorts that ride up his thighs a bit  _ too much _ when Keiji sends him a message that Kenma’s fake boyfriend is on his way.

It’s safe to say that Kenma almost ruins his makeup in the wave of dread and cold sweat that breaks across his skin.

_ From: Everyday Keiji _ __   
_bf will meet pick u up from the shoot today._   
_-seen 14:00-_

 

_ To: Everyday Keiji _ __   
_ what  
_ __ -seen 14:02-

 

_ From: Everyday Keiji _ __   
_ Just go with it. He knows what to do, I promise. Don't overreact.  
_ __ -seen 14:04-

 

_ To: Everyday Keji _ __   
_ a name would b nice keiji  
_ __ -seen 14:04

 

_ From: Everyday Keiji _

_ Bokuto Koutarou. Call him Koutarou.  
_ _ -seen 14:05- _

 

Even though Kenma isn’t slated to finish the shoot for another hour, if everything goes as planned, he’s  _ nervous _ . Chikara clearly doesn’t know about this, and Kenma isn’t sure how to brief him on Keiji and his plan for a Fake Boyfriend. He’s not sure Chikara will be pleased. Not that his manager is truly ever  _ displeased _ with him. All things considered, Kenma fancies himself a rather low maintenance model.

He’s nervous to act affectionate to a stranger he doesn’t know. Has never heard of. A part of him is thankful that Keiji was able to pull strings to get a non-famous fake boyfriend, but Kenma isn’t sure if it's better to thrust a normal person into this kind of spotlight.

Thoughts on how this plan was surely going to fail assault him through the rest of the shoot, though judging by the quick shutter click of the camera proves that even amidst inner turmoil he was a model through and through.

When Kenma meets the infamous Bokuto Koutarou he’s clad in his boxers and half his shirt over his head.

“Kenma?” a low voice sounds in his changing room.

The yell he lets out isn't intentional, and Kenma quickly pulls his shirt on the rest of the way to glare at the intruder. “What?” he snaps, assuming the unwelcome person to be a new intern on the shoot.

“Ah,” the stranger--tall and  _ broad _ \--takes a step back, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Ennoshita-san let me in, I’m here to pick you up.”

Nothing else is said, but Kenma fits the pieces together.  _ This _ was Koutarou. This was to be his fake boyfriend. This multicolored hair, tall,  _ buff _ man with a voice as deep as the pacific ocean.

What the  _ hell _ Keiji.

“Right,” Kenma nods once before glancing down at his state of dress. “Hand me my shorts.” he points to a pair of black high waisted denim shorts, catching them with ease when Koutarou tossed them to him.

“Those are short,” Koutarou says, too loud for Kenma’s ears.

“That’s the  _ point _ ,” he tries not to hiss. Koutarou recoils away farther. Kenma wants to just call the entire thing off. Admit to the press that he had lied.

But he knows if he does that, it would be twisted into  _ Kozume Kenma hiding his relationship with International Photographer Kuroo Tetsurou _ and that’s the last thing he wants right now.

“Right, sorry.” Koutarou apologizes, shoulders curling in as Kenma fights the urge to say  _ something _ .

They don’t talk again until after Kenma tugs them out of the changing room. Koutarou laces their fingers together and Kenma fights the urge to yank his hand away. Instead, gives a sharp nod to Chikara before pulling his fake boyfriend out of the room.

“Rule One,” Kenma says the moment they are out safely down the hall. “I hate physical contact. Don’t touch me unless you ask.”

“That doesn’t make dating look believable,” Koutarou, thin lips pulled down. “I can’t stop and ask to put my hand on your shoulder. We're  _ dating _ .”

“It's fake dating, there is a difference.” Kenma feels the squeeze of their still interlocked hands and continues to pull them down the hall to the elevators. The fewer people to see them, the better. At least until they were able to sit down and set the rules of this  _ relationship _ . 


End file.
